


all bared teeth (and no bite)

by mrstiffanyray



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: F/M, power couple the world deserved AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstiffanyray/pseuds/mrstiffanyray
Summary: At least they made sense, in some kind of stupidly twisted way.Madison had felt what death was like so many times it had become more like an old friend. Michael was even more in touch with it than she was. She felt unlovable but desperately wanted to be wanted and over time she realized he did too. Go figure, or whatever.





	all bared teeth (and no bite)

**Author's Note:**

> i blame my love for these two as characters and the fact i've fallen hard for the concept of them together for whatever this is. and ryan murphy for not giving either of them the writing they deserved. :)

Madison is sure there must be something wrong with her.

This has to be one for the records, she thinks, on the number of screwed up boys she’s fallen for.

High school boys who looked at her and saw nothing beyond the surface level of her body, industry boys who knew exactly how to make false hopes to get what they wanted out of her. Frat boys who thought of her as a toy, a doll to be played with then thrown away. All the boys who hurt her, used and left her, and of course, all the boys who never loved her back. 

It’s got to be some kind of fucked up thing in her DNA, right? Something that makes disgust flare inside her at the thought of kindness or affection, when kindness and affection are really some of the only things she craves from people. Something that makes her gravitate towards the most unavailable guys ever.

Still, Michael Langdon takes the cake when it comes to all of it.

. . . 

She had been watching the smoke curl from her cigarette, arms leaned against a railing, when it first really started to stir inside her.

“Why on earth do you smoke those?”

Madison didn’t need to turn to see who the voice belonged to; smooth and calm, with a lilt to it that wasn’t as dangerous as it would become just yet.

Still, she looked over at Michael, eyebrows raised.

She wouldn’t have thought he of all people would have followed to check on her. The immediate irony of the thought of him even caring about her health over a cancer stick when Cordelia herself hadn’t cared enough to bring her back from the dead wasn’t lost on her.

Not that it _mattered_ or anything, either way, especially after he’d blown off her offer to blow _him_ back in her personal Hell. It took three lifetimes for Madison to decide she was done with chasing boys who drew her in, total snacks or not. 

“Why do you care?” she shot back instead.

“Who said I did?” The small smile that came upon Michael’s face was infuriating; it was like he didn’t even have to try for the words to sting as much as they did. Catty insults were her thing, but she found herself almost admiringly wishing she were _that_ naturally good. “It just seems like such a waste, is all.”

“So is that package you’re packing down there, apparently, but you don’t see me still bothering you about it.”

Madison expected the tight lipped smile she sent in his direction to be the end of that, until he spoke up again.

“Are you used to that?” Michael pressed. “Someone not caring? _No one_ caring about you?”

When she didn’t answer, he continued, “It’s interesting, I think, how disposable you seemed to be to them. That’s twice now it’s happened, isn’t it?”

“How would you know?” Madison demanded, whirling back around.

There was something about the way he was prodding at her, like he knew more than he let on, like Michael was able to read her like an open book without even knowing her at all, more said in his few words than anything else. For a crazy second she wondered if it might have been understanding. And for another crazy second she almost liked it.

Not bothering to give her any kind of answer, Michael said, “Did you know your Supreme didn’t even ask me to bring you back?”

Madison allowed the sickeningly sweet smile to fall back into place, stepping closer. If it was a challenge Michael wanted, she’d be happy to give it. She raised the cigarette to her lips and blew, smoke wafting directly into his face.

Instead of getting angry, a boyish grin suddenly spread across his features, looking both natural and completely out of place on him all at the same time.

The skip in her heart would only get worse from there.

. . . 

At least they made sense, in some kind of stupidly twisted way.

Madison had felt what death was like so many times it had become more like an old friend. Michael was even more in touch with it than she was. She felt unlovable but desperately wanted to be wanted and over time she realized he did too. Go figure, or whatever.

It was sort of like those shitty romance dramas her mom used to force her to watch to prepare for movie roles, only she was way hotter than Demi Moore and even Patrick Swayze’s ghost load had nothing on Michael Langdon.

She had meant it, though, when deciding she was done with chasing boys who would never want her. Michael was different.

It kept on almost like a game at first, a game she was used to playing, not necessarily beating. Michael would find a way in, she’d waver, and she would work to get a piece of him in return for it. It didn’t take long for her to realize coaxing the other side out of him wasn’t even hard; it only took someone putting in effort back for him.

He made her feel present in ways she thought she never could have again – that clawing need inside of her to feel something, to just feel anything.

The way they’d gone from bouncing off one another to finding what they’d both been looking for in each other, the smirks and jabs that turned into secret smiles and warm touches and when it hit her like whiplash once she realized, shit, Michael didn’t just make her feel anything, he helped her feel _everything_.

Maybe that was why Madison hadn’t tried nearly as hard as she could have to avoid it. Or maybe she just didn’t have it in her to be much of a fighter when it came to what she ultimately wanted. 

She’d always been selfish like that, in the end of anything.

 . . . 

Something had been familiar about it all. Almost like the way she had taken Kyle apart and put him back together again, how she had wanted to give everything she had in her to him. 

Only this time Madison actually got some payoff for it.

She’d compare them from time to time – their smiles, their bright eyes, their way of making her feel something other than numb darkness.

Eventually though, Kyle’s smile became not nearly as radiant in her thoughts. His eyes didn’t hold as much sparkle to them and the feeling she convinced herself so long ago he understood maybe wasn’t the same after all.

“He didn’t love me,” Madison found herself saying to Michael one day, when her body was fitted next to his, hand absentmindedly running through his blonde curls. Among all of the hidden similarities she’d learned about the two of them over time, maybe the fact he was as stupidly touch starved as her was the most comforting. “I tried to make him. It didn’t work.”

Michael curled his leg closer around hers, taking her face in his surprisingly soft hands, like it was the only way he knew how to stress the importance of his words.

“You mean more than any of them ever could. You're too much for them, and it's their loss. Don't _ever_ let someone like that make you feel small again."

She stopped comparing the two of them as much then. They couldn’t have been more different, and really? Madison reveled in the thought.

For once, Michael was someone who was more than enough.

 . . . 

Madison had been holding her arms across her chest, like if she held them there tight enough it would ease the boulder sized weight in her stomach. She was keeping her eyes on the two ghosts held together in an embrace.

Cordelia entrusting her with the “find-out-more-about-Michael-at-the-Murder-House” mission was about the most ironic part of it all, but not surprising – if anything happened to her there, who cared? Madison Montgomery, straight back to hell again, wasn’t that how it always went?

That thought playing in her head had almost been enough to stop her from feeling so guilty about playing both sides in secret. Almost.

She’d gotten what the Coven wanted, information on the supposed Supreme warlock. Information she had already known and planned to keep all for herself. And a little more than even Michael had ever told her.

 _It’s a romantic tragedy,_ hadn’t she said that about the two ghosts in the home who so badly wanted to be together but couldn’t make it work on their own?

“At least someone gets a happy ending,” Madison said aloud.

She just wished that happy ending could have been saved for her and Michael instead. She wished she’d met him sooner. 

Whatever, sue her.

 . . . 

Being as close to him as possible became more necessary after that. Any chance Madison could she wanted to be around him, to drink him in, to wrap herself around him and be the person he made her feel she was.

With Michael, she felt more alive than she’d been even before a cold blade had slit her throat. She felt important, she felt wanted. All of the anger and hurt and bitterness inside of her, the power and innate selfishness she’d always had – he made her feel like it wasn’t so ugly, maybe not such a bad thing.

He made her feel like she was good.

And maybe the most important to Madison, with him she was more than just a pretty fuck, a body to be used and then forgotten about. Michael _worshipped_ her, made her experience things no high school boy or frat assholes ever could have, showed her how to be whole again.

It didn’t matter if it was him inside of her like that was where he'd always belonged, or his mouth in all the right places, or his hands on her neck to her stomach to her thighs, holding her together while taking her apart all at once in any way he could. Michael was everything she’d ever asked for.

“God,” Madison sometimes found herself gasping out, throwing her head back while stars danced behind her eyes.

“Not at all,” he'd correct her, and the coil in her stomach would settle.

She’d known more than ever in times like that she was never going to give him up.

. . . 

Of course she also knew even back then things would have to change. It was easier to shut her eyes and pretend the end of the world wasn’t looming around the corner, that soon all of her secrets would have to spill out and she’d have no idea how to give answers for any of them.

With a light flick of her wrist, Madison watched the flames from the candles on the tile floor rise higher. She settled back against Michael’s front, the warmth from both the clawfoot bath's water and his body heat soothing her nerves.

Times like those where they were able to be alone were her favorite. They made it easier to pretend it was normal, that she wasn’t wrong for what she was doing.

“Would you run away with me?” Madison asked, breaking the calm silence.

She could feel his breath ghosting over the back of her neck.

“Where to, little witch?”

“No bullshitting, I’m serious. If none of this worked and we had to get away, would you go with me? Wouldn’t that, like, be enough?”

She thought of Zoe and Kyle, running away from the Coven together for the sake of their relationship, all because of her not-so-empty threats back then. She’d be lying to herself if she said a part of her didn’t sometimes want the same thing, the same easy way out.

Michael kissed the back of her ear and it felt like answer enough.

“Running away is beneath you,” he reminded her, goosebumps rising on her arms despite the warm water. “It’s beneath me. We’re better than that, you _know_ that.” 

Madison’s smile didn’t quite meet her eyes, but she hadn’t planned to argue either way. She did already know deep down.

Stone cold bitch Madison Montgomery it was, then.

. . . 

So Madison stands, her composure cool and collected, her face set in stone. She’s known this day would come, and so it has, and she can’t help but think she doesn’t care nearly as much as she would have thought.

She guesses it must be hard to care when she already decided so long ago she would never leave his side.

Even with the world a ruined mess around them and Michael standing before her looking so much like a stranger and yet _her_ Michael still, she doesn't find herself doubting anything about him.

“Don't you clean up nice?” Madison remarks playfully, sliding the fancy rings on his fingers up and down before finally letting one settle on her own hand. She likes the way it glints in the red hazed light.

Michael makes a noise that sounds almost like a hum. She returns the genuine smile he sends her way for the first time that day and she knows she’s ready.

When Cordelia and her so called sisters see her next to him, Madison is sure she can already paint the betrayed expression on her Supreme’s face. The hurt, the shock, the not understanding. _“How could you?”_ she’ll ask her.

 _Because he’s done everything the rest of you couldn’t,_ Madison will think. _He chose me, he loves me for the way I am, he would never change his mind and get rid of me. Never make me feel the way I used to._

Instead it’ll probably come out something more like, “I’m hot. He’s hot. You do the math, bitch.”

And Madison is sure right then if all of this means there's something wrong with her after all, then wrong is exactly what she wants to be.


End file.
